


training session

by euriele



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-14
Updated: 2014-07-14
Packaged: 2018-02-08 19:57:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1954266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/euriele/pseuds/euriele
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Again."</p><p>"Maine, c’mon -"</p><p>“<i>Again.</i>”</p>
            </blockquote>





	training session

"Again."

"Maine, c’mon -"

“ _Again._ ”

Glare at him. Put all the anger and annoyance into your expression and glare Maine down. The two of you have been in this training room for hours, Maine talking you through hand-to-hand combat and taking you through all the basics. He noticed on the mission earlier this week that hand-to-hand isn’t your strong suit - he’s nicer about it than South, who straight up tells you that ‘you fucking suck’ at hand-to-hand.

So he brought you into this training room after hours, starts teaching you how to hold your own in a fight. That was six hours ago and there’s an early training match against North scheduled in the morning for you. You want to sleep, lie down and let your aching and bruised limbs rest a while before you get your ass handed to you in the morning.

Maine shakes his head, brings his fists up and spreads his feet. You sigh, mirror his position and wait for the inevitable punch.

He swings at you. You duck, bring your arm up to deflect his fist. Forget that his next move is an undercut and feel his fist slam into your stomach, sending you doubling over. His leg sweeps your own from beneath you, sending you crashing down into the training mats for the umpteenth time that night.

You stare up at the fluorescent lights, rub your stomach and taking wheezing breaths. Maine stands over you, the tiniest of smiles on his face.

"Again."

"Nope."

"Again."

"Fuck you."

"Won’t get better without practice."

"Won’t get better if I’m too tired to fucking move."

"Stop?"

"Stop."

Maine nods, steps back and crosses his arm over his chest. He waits for you to stand up, but you don’t move.

"Carry me back to my room."

"No."

"You suck."

Maine just smirks. He turns and starts to walk away. You spring up, launch yourself at Maine and koala onto his back. Hook your arm under his chin and try and pull him into a headlock. See his arms reaching up. He grabs fistfuls of your shirt, pulls you from his back without any effort.

You find yourself letting out an involuntary screech, a pitch higher than you normally would. Maine slams you into the mat, pins your wrists to the ground. His face hovers above yours, nose barely centimetres away from your own.

You both breathe heavily for a few moments; you sweaty and tired whilst he’s barely broken a sweat. You stare at his face, at the scars criss-crossing across his cheeks and the laughter lines and the golden colour of his eyes -

He clears his throat, leans back and stands up.

"Tomorrow, same time," he grumbles. He doesn’t meet your eyes, but he offers you his hand.

You take it.

**Author's Note:**

> requested by ahmogar on tumblr


End file.
